


Bibliosexual

by Unforth



Series: Prompt Fics: Supernatural [50]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Dean Winchester, Autochorrisexual Dean Winchester, Book Fetish, Castiel has a Fetish, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Phone Sex Operator Dean Winchester, Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Dean is a phone sex operator. Cas isextremelyembarrassed to admit why he actually called.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Prompt Fics: Supernatural [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/708447
Comments: 84
Kudos: 340
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	Bibliosexual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThePornFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePornFairy/gifts).



> Hey ya'll...long time, no Destiel. Told ya I wasn't gone for good...
> 
> A little over a month ago, ThePornFairy posted this prompt on the Profound Bond Discord:  
> "Prompt: I'm listening to a podcast where they interview a phone sex operator, and there's this one guy who takes 20 minutes to get to the point, and all he wants is for them to take a photo of themselves with a book, flip the pages, talk about the smell, and (eventually) slam the book shut as the guy goes off. Can I get awkward!Cas with a book fetisch, and Dean as a phone sex operator. Bonus points if Dean's actually ace and they really hit it off, and then it super works because Dean doesn't even have to be in the same room if he doesn't wanna, he can just flip through books as Cas gets himself off, and then they can cuddle."
> 
> And I knew this was something I fricken *had* to write. It took me a little bit to find the oomph but when I sat down to get some words in...I knew today was the day. So here we are. This is...almost crack? Maybe? Idek but it was fun to write and hopefully some of you will enjoy it too.
> 
> Note that I don't know jackshit about phone sex, phone sex operators, the rules for phone sex, or really anything at all about phone sex. In normal situations this would have meant I'd google it before writing about it so that I could at least get the broad strokes right but...meh, sorry, I didn't bother. So don't come into this parts expecting realism, cause there ain't none to be found.
> 
> Totally unedited, this is exactly what my first drafts look like. Sorry but not actually sorry, this was just me writing in some casual good fun.

Dean’s cell phone rang and, before answering it, he took a moment to adjust his headset and assume his customer service mask. With a deep breath in and a deep breath out, he swiped to pick up.

“Hey there,” he drawled, his voice close to an octave lower than his normal. “You’ve reached Operator 16 today.” His handful of exes assured him that when he talked like this, he sounded sexy. “What’s your fantasy?” He didn’t really get it - he was just...talking? In a low voice? - but it did the trick for his job. He got a  _ lot  _ of return customers.

“Operator...operator 16?” stuttered the man on the other hand. He sounded terrified. 

This was  _ not  _ one of his return customers. “Or any other name you’d prefer,” Dean explained. “For as long as we’re on this call, I’m whoever you want me to be. All for you. So, just tell me what you want.”

“What I want...oh God…” the man mumbled, and though they had no visual conversation, Dean could  _ swear  _ he could see the dude - thin and nebbishy in Dean’s imagination - removing a pair of ridiculously thick glasses and using a monographed handkerchief to wipe sweat off his forehead. “This is, um…” Sort of a cross between a little Jewish dude - Woody Allen minus being an utterly disgusting poopstain excuse for a human being - and Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice -  _ hopefully  _ without being a pompous windbag. “This is my first time calling a number like this.”

“I got that sense, sugar,” Dean said coyly. “How ‘bout you take a long, slow breath, calm yourself down, and remind yourself why you called. There’s something you need, right?”

“Yes.” The man coughed, and when he resumed speaking there was a rasp in his voice that gave it an allure it had lacked before. “But please don’t call me ‘sugar.’”  _ More like Mr. Collins...in a negligee...oh god, no, bad brain, stop stop stop.  _ “I’m not...I don’t need…”

“Sorry there, big boy--”

“Not that either!”

“--what should I call you?”

“Oh...that’s a good question...wow, I really shouldn’t have called...I have no idea what I’m doing...you must think I’m an utter idiot…”

“Nope,” Dean said, dragging out the ‘o’ and popping the ‘p.’ “You’re shy, and uncertain, and that’s okay. We all start out shy and uncertain.”

There was a pause, the silence so deep that for a moment Dean thought the man had hung up, and then, “Even you?”

Dean laughed. “Dude, god, hell yes. Wait, is ‘dude’ okay?”

“Yeah…” The man heaved a sigh that seemed to ease some of his tension. “Let’s go with ‘dude.’ Alright. So. I’m dude. And you’re Operator 16--”

“Or anything else you’d like to call me!”

“No. You  _ are  _ operator 16, and a person, not my...I mean...Dude. And Operator 16. And you’re right. There  _ is  _ something I desire. It’s been on my mind for a long time, and I knew it was strange, but...no, I shouldn’t tell you that...you don’t need to know my backstory, merely what I wish, and...but this is so  _ hard _ .”

“I’m sure  _ something  _ is hard,” Dean teased.

“Actually, no, that’s part of the problem,” groaned dude.

Dean blinked. 

Dean frowned.

Dean’s brow furrowed.

_ Sounding more like Mr. Collins by the second...oh god no not that mental image in lingerie again, where’s the brain bleach, staaaaph brain! _

Dean said, “You know that you don’t  _ have  _ to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, right? Like, you don’t have to want to get laid. You don’t have to call a phone sex operator. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but anything you want to say, I’ll listen.”

“Because I’m paying $2.95 a minute?” said dude with surprising bitterness considering  _ he  _ called  _ Dean _ .

“Because you’re a person, and I’m a person, and if you’re uncomfortable, what’s the point?”

“That’s...um...you’re right,” dude sighed. “Why do I get the feeling I’m  _ exactly  _ the kind of call you dread?”

“Naw.”

“And why do I get the feeling you say that to  _ everyone  _ who worries they’re being difficult?”

“I mean, I do - part of the gig - but in this case I’m  _ not  _ lying. Nerves happen. Shyness happens. I’ve had people hang up midway through. I’ve had people ask me to talk them through gerbiling themselves. I’ve had people make me a tenth to their orgy. I’ve had people who wanted pictures of my feet. All that and more? Totally within the realm of the ups and downs of the job - totally normal. So please don’t worry.”

“...I’m still worried. And I don’t know what gerbiling is, and please don’t tell me. I know I’m not...I  _ know  _ I’m not normal.”

“Pssh, who wants to be normal anyway?”

“But you just said all those weird things  _ are  _ normal...”

“They’re normal for  _ me _ , all run-of-the-mill by the standards of a really  _ not  _ run-of-the-mill job. Come on, why don’t you just try me?”

“I’m still on the call. I am trying you.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Dean shook his head and forced to put his reply into words. He knew too well, after more than a year earning a living as Operator 16, that body language was useless for communicating. “You really think what you got is weirder than someone sticking a gerbil in their own ass?”

“Oh...oh God...I asked you  _ not  _ to tell me...why would they... _ how  _ would they...no, please, don’t tell me. But would you answer something for me? If it doesn’t violate, like...operator-client confidentiality?”

Dude’s deadpan delivery startled a laugh from Dean.  _ Maybe he’s  _ not  _ Mr. Collins in undies _ ... _ that was like, legitimately funny _ . “I’m an open book.”

There was a soft shudder from dude - maybe discomfort? Maybe alarm? Maybe, possibly, arousal? - and another slow inhale and exhale, and then he said, “What  _ does  _ count as weird? Like...what crosses the line?”

“Demanding that I enjoy whatever it is, too,” said Dean without hesitation.

“Huh?” Dude sounded genuinely surprised and confused, but not condemning or judgemental, and Dean warmed to him more.

“Okay...so honestly I usually don’t go into the details of the logistics of this job to folks who call in, but since you asked nicely, and since I know you’re freaked…” Dean took a deep breath. “Look, like I said earlier...I’m here to be  _ yours _ . Whoever I’m talking to, whatever you say, my job is to become that. But I’m still  _ me _ . I embody a fantasy, with my voice and my actions and the sounds I make and all that junk, but I still maintain bodily autonomy. I’m still aloud to say  _ no _ . People cross the line the instant they demand proof that I’m as into whatever their kink is as they are. Cause I can’t do that. I can  _ pretend _ to do that, but, like, if someone tells me all about their teddy bear fetish and describe to me Paddington in all his raincoated glory and then ask me to send a pic of my erection...I can’t do that. Because I don’t get off on that. I don’t judge  _ nobody _ for what gets their engine going. All I ask in return is that people who call in understand that  _ they  _ don’t get to dictate what gets  _ my  _ engine going. Make sense?”

“What  _ does  _ get your ‘engine going?’” asked dude, the air quotes fricken  _ audible _ .

_ Nothing. _

Shaking his head, Dean said, “Nope, sorry. That’s all mine.”

_ No, that’s not true...I mean...I don’t get  _ off _ on it...I rarely get off at all, and that’s a-ok...but man I could go for, just...some awesome cuddles. A good, overnight spooning. Preferably as the little spoon. Heck, even just someone content to stroke themselves silly while I lie next to them and murmur encouragement would be nice… _

“Of course, you’re right - and from what you just told me, I should have realized. I’m sorry I asked. Forgive me.”

_...actually, that would be kind of ideal, now that I think about it… _

“Forgive you what, dude?”

_ Not the moment, Winchester. _

“About the--”

“I mean it’s already forgiven,” Dean hastily added.

“Ah. I’m sorry. My people skills are...I was going to say rusty, but honestly, they’re non-existent, which brings me back to my original problem.”

“And your original desire?”

“Yes. That. I’ve recently found myself in my first relationship.”

“Congratulations!”

“Don’t. It’s over already.”

“...oh. Is it because of your secret desire?”

“I believe so,” dude sighed again. Forlorn sighs seemed to be the order of the day. “When our relationship advanced to a point where the gentleman in question desired more intense forms of physical intimacy, I found I was not able perform.”

“...if you talked like  _ that _ , I can imagine why.”

“Like what?”

“Ya know, like...good day, fine sirs, please grant me a few moments of your time while I whip out my thesaurus and make sure every word I utter has at  _ least  _ three syllables.”

“None of the words you just said had at least three syllables.”

“Bullshit. Both ‘thesaurus’  _ and  _ ‘syllables’ had three syllables. Anyway, you were telling me about your distinguished beaux?”

“Ahem. Yes. Of course. And no, the man in question actually appreciated my erudition, nor do I understand what my verbosity has to do with erectile dysfunction. However, that’s moot, for he also was pleased enough with me as a partner to forgive my inability, provided it was temporary. Thus, we resolved to share a night in the platonic sense.  _ That’s  _ when the issues arose.”

“Aw, you get a woodie in the middle of the night and moan someone else’s name?” asked Dean sympathetically.

“That is...oddly specific...and inaccurate...and as an interjection, not in keeping with your offer to listen.”

“My bad, you’re right,” said Dean, projecting his genuine contrition into his voice. “Continue, if you want, and if not, I understand.”

“No...no, I’m enjoying our repartee so far, and would prefer to proceed. You see, he took out a book.”

Dude hesitated.

Dean waited.

Dude didn’t continue.

_ Seriously, you  _ just  _ scolded me for interrupting your Viagra moment and now you want me to…?  _ “And…?” he prompted.

“And he turned the pages.” The mortification thick in dude’s voice was enough to dissipate Dean’s mild annoyance.

“...and?” he asked more gently.

“And I achieved an erection.”

Still hesitant, still slow, still waiting.

Dean bit back a sigh. “Great?”

“Not great,” admitted dude miserably. “My paramour observed my state, and sought to reinitiate our liaison, and my erection faded. So he retrieved his book once more, and my erection renewed, and...well, you get the idea.”

“The book was your turn on?”

“I believe so,” said dude. “But I have not been able to explore that with a real person, since said partner decided after the third repeat of this cycle that he’d had enough, and he left that night.”

“Wow. Dude sounds like an asshole.”

“...I thought I was ‘dude.’”

“Crap, you’re right. I’m sorry. Your ex sounds like an asshole. Honestly? You sound kinda awesome.”

“Do you say that to all your clients?”

“Ayup.”

“...I should have expected that. So...that’s why I called.”

“Wait...this is why you went all weird when I said I was an open book, isn’t it?” Dean chuckled.

“...maybe...maybe a little…” mumbled dude.

“This is  _ not  _ weird, I promise,” Dean said. “And as I’ve already established, I  _ don’t  _ say that to all my clients. I’m all yours, dude. Whatcha want?”

“It, um. It might be weird. You said you dislike when the client involves you directly. But I was hoping…” There was an awkward pause. 

“Just ask. Trust me. You’re probably fine, and if you’re not, I’ll put the kybosh down and we can move on.”

“Would you send me a picture of you holding a book?” dude asked in a rush.

Dean blinked. “...is that all?”

“...is it not a lot?” said dude uncertainly.

“Man, I send pics like that all the time. Okay, what kinda book you want? Hardcover? Soft cover? Maybe a TPB just for kinks? Oh, I got a bible if that’s your thing--”

“NO!” exclaimed dude, his shudder audible. “God, no. Definitely not that. How about...um...hardcover? Maybe something older, if you have it? Like...a leather cover? And maybe thicker pages?”

“Hmm…” Mentally running through his library, Dean considered his options. “...yeah, I got something appropriate I think. I’ll be right back, ‘kay?”

“Yes...thank you…”

Leaving his cell phone and earpiece on the bed - Dean didn’t like “carrying” clients through his apartment, it felt too personal - he hurried to his bookcase.

_ Please let it be where I think it is… _

_...please let Charlie have returned it to me… _

_...please...aha! _

On the bottom shelf, a little dusty, was his gorgeous leather-bound edition of the Lord of the Rings. 

_ I mean, as long as there’s no risk of getting spooge on it, why not get some elves and shit involved all up in this fetish? _

Returning to the bedroom, Dean plopped back on the bed and got the headset back on. “Dude, you want me naked?”

“No need,” said dude, a note of anticipation thrumming in his voice. “Just...just a picture of you. With the book.” Long experience had helped Dean to pick up a lot of nearly sub-vocal clues as to his partners’ states… “If that’s okay?” ...which had led to a  _ fuckton  _ of awkward moments with new acquaintances, and helped him to dodge some truly unpleasant social bullets by recognizing early which people were the creepers. 

Thus, Dean was like 93% percent sure that dude  _ wasn’t  _ creeper, just some poor bozo who’d figured out he had a profoundly rare fetish and no damn idea what to do with that information.

Fortunately, he’d called Dean.

Dean knew  _ exactly  _ what to do.

“Alright, gimme two shakes, and I’ll send something right over.”

The situation that had led to dude’s erection seemed pretty clear cut - both men lying in bed, one reading, in the evening, after a date - so Dean went about reproducing it. Grabbing his tripod, he set his phone up in the place where dude would have lain and looked at his partner. 

“I’m not sure what ‘one shake’ is, so how can I give you ‘two?’”

He changed into a white t, something like he’d sleep in, and ruffled up the blankets like he’d already been in bed for a while.

“I have no idea if you’re joking or not,” admitted Dean. 

Climbing in, he positioned himself with the book open in his lap, gold-edged pages gleaming by the faint light of a single lamp, his fingers rubbing over the velvety leather.

“And you’ll never know,” dude deadpanned.

Dean’s finger hit the photograph trigger as he broke into astonished laughter. Setting the book aside, he grabbed his phone and reviewed what he’d gotten - fucking  _ perfect _ , a sequence of five shots showing his wide smile from the tail end of his laughter.

“And your pictures are on the way…” He flicked through the menus on the phone sex operator app that let him send the photographs without getting or giving any personal information, and hit  _ send _ . “...now!”

A soft  _ ping  _ was audible through the headset.

“Oh…” murmured dude. Dean beamed. He knew  _ good  _ when he heard it. “...oh, these are perfect. You’re gorgeous, aren’t you?”

“Thanks, dude. I bet you’re pretty hot too.”

It wasn’t true. Dean was still thinking nebbish Mr. Collins, though probably, thankfully,  _ mercifully _ not in a negligee. 

_ ABORT. _

“I meant your book, Operator 16. Though you are quite exquisite as well.”

“It  _ is  _ a gorgeous book, isn’t it?” sighed Dean, running a hand over the cover. He’d spent most of a paycheck to get this special edition. Sam had said he was out of his gourd to waste so much bank on a book he  _ already owned  _ in three other formats. Dean had told him to go fly a fucking kite.

Like, sure, Dean didn’t have any fetishes himself...heck, Dean was sex-averse enough that he rarely even masturbated...but a book fetish was one he could  _ really  _ grok.

“Tell me about it?” asked dude plaintively.

_ Oh, and that’s my cue. We’re actually gonna do this! Fucking awesome!  _ Dean slipped back into his hopefully sexiest voice and said, “Anything you want to know, dude. This book...this is a  _ damn  _ good book. The cover is calf’s leather, worked so smooth it almost feels like fabric. It’s about 300 pages long, but it feels much weightier than that because the paper is...it’s vellum or something, I think. Real thick. A little off white. And the ink is slightly raised. It’s even got hand-tinted illustrations. The edges are gilded, too, and the sound it makes when you flip through the pages?”

“...may I hear?” Dude sounded slightly strained, in an oh-so-familiar way, and Dean got that warm glow inside that always manifested when he was genuinely enjoying doing his job, when he  _ knew  _ he’d helped someone else feel good.

“Here, listen…” Dean lifted the book up to his receiver and ran his thumb along the page block. A soft  _ ptt, ptt, ptt _ sounded as each leaf spread beneath his touch, growing more rapid as he fanned the pages more quickly. “...and the way they feel under my finger? It’d be a hell of a trick to get a paper cut from this, because they’re so thick and the paper is so smooth.”

“Ohhh...I’d like to hold that book sometime...keep…” Dude hissed. “...keep going…” The  _ fwip, fwip _ of a hand moving over a dick encouraged Dean that he was  _ absolutely  _ on the right track.

“It’s  _ heavy _ ,” Dean continued. “Absolutely  _ perfect  _ for some night reading. This baby got no place knocking around a backpack or picked up at random for a commute. Nope - this is bedside reading, when I can rest the weight on my belly, and turn the pages with all the care they deserve…” he emphasized by turning the page and dude gasped. “...and then I can take my nicest bookmark, you know, the hand-tooled leather ones with the tassels, that got that  _ perfect  _ smell, and mark my spot until the next night.”

“Tell me - tell me about the smell!”

Dean took a vocal inhale. “Oh, man, what can I even say?”  _ No, seriously, what can I say? How do I describe a fricken smell?  _ “There’s the leather, right - rich and musky, bitter with tannin, just the perfect tang in the nose. And the pages - this ain’t your library’s musty old backshelf bullshit. The paper smells woody and…” Dean shoved his nose in the book. “...heck, even a little sweet, but also... _ dark _ , like the ink would be pure umami delight if I licked it.”

“...oh god...oh god, you’re really... _ I’m  _ really…”

“You want to touch my book, dude?” Dean was proud of how well he managed his teasing, taunting,  _ offering _ , sultry best.

“...I do...oh wow...I really do...but...but not  _ dude _ , I’m not…”

“Here’s what I’m gonna do.” The descriptions were becoming easier as Dean found himself oddly getting into it. Not turned on himself, but dude sounded so pleased, so genuine in his arousal, and Dean really,  _ really  _ loved this book, and having someone appreciate it for the beauty it was...not even Charlie had been so enthusiastic in her approval. “I’m gonna get the finest etched bookplate I can find - acid free paper, only the best for this sweet book - and get archival paste and paste that sucker right in the front cover. But I gotta know, dude...what name do you want it to say?”

“Cas!” dude... _ Cas _ blurted out. “Please…”

“I’ll write  _ Cas _ ,” Dean promised. “And it’ll be all yours, and  _ only  _ yours, waiting for you to pick it up, and turn the pages--”

“Don’t stop - don’t stop!”

“--and immerse yourself in buttery leather and silken pages and that perfect scent of  _ good book  _ until you’re done and--” Dean slammed the book shut.

With a stuttering gasp, Cas came. Dean could hear his climax - in his stuttered breathing, in his choked-down moan, in the slick  _ squelch _ of palm against dick. He’d heard it a thousand times before, and it never got old. A shiver of satisfaction trailed down Dean’s spine, about the closest he ever got to sexual desire of his own.

_ Another job well done with Operator 16. _

A flicker of disappointment dulled Dean’s pleasure. He was good at his job  _ because  _ he didn’t actually get horny. All the best phone sex folks were autochorrisexual to their core, at least that’s what  _ he  _ thought the common element was - all the fantasizing, none of the actual desire - but he’d enjoyed his time with Cas as he rarely enjoyed calls, and he was sorry it was over.

“Operator 16...that was...that was  _ fantastic _ ,” breathed Cas, words broken by his rapid panting. “You’re...you’re really,  _ really  _ good at this.”

“Thanks, man…” Dean managed to sound chipper as he set the book aside. “I’m really  _ truly  _ glad that this did it for you. You deserve to do sex shit that makes you feel good.”

“Yeah...uh...I guess I do.” Cas gave a small, adorable, gorgeous titter of agreement, and Dean was even more shocked to find an unmistakable bundle of  _ affection  _ forming somewhere near his heart. “So...um…now that I’ve done...that...do I help you achieve orgasm, too?”

_ What the fuck, me? Do I actually want Mr. Collins?  _

“God, no, please don’t,” Dean laughed. “I’m so good. I’m happy when you’re happy.”

_ Calling him Mr. Collins sells him  _ massively  _ short...he’s more like...more like...hell if I know. _

“Do you say  _ that  _ to all your clients?”

_ Charles Dickens with an extra dick or six thrown in.  _

“I mean...yeah I do...but I don’t say  _ this  _ to all my clients. I genuinely enjoyed this, Cas. If you ever want to do this again sometime, you know my operator number, you can dial straight to me, and I’d  _ absolutely  _ be down for a repeat. I’ll hit up some of the local thrift markets, see if I can find some more tomes to spice things up…”

_ Shakespeare with the text notes explaining how half the bonkers things he wrote were cock jokes.  _

Cas leaked a small, deep,  _ gorgeous  _ groan. “Don’t...don’t tempt me so soon…” he managed. “...refractory period…”

_ Full-on Eowyn “I am no man” Big Dick Energy. _

“That mean you’re gonna call again in, what, an hour or two?” laughed Dean.

_ Except. _

“Maybe not an hour,” said Cas reluctantly, “but...um...if you’re truly amenable, yes, I would very much appreciate an opportunity to do this again.”

_ Like. _

“I am.  _ Truly  _ amenable, Cas. Except…”

_ With a book fetish. _

“...yeah?” Oh man, Cas sounded  _ adorable  _ when he was all disappointed.

_ I wonder what he actually looks like _ .

“...maybe next time, call me Dean?”

_ Does it matter? _

“...oh!”

_ This felt good for him. _

“And no, I definitely do  _ not  _ say that all my clients, or even  _ any  _ of my clients, ever before, and if my boss found out I’d be outta work so, uh, maybe don’t tell?”

_ And it felt good for me. _

“I would never reveal what you’ve shared with me in confidence...Dean.” Cas said the name like he savored it, and another shiver went down Dean’s spine.

_ If I’m totally honest with myself? _

“Awesome. That sounds awesome. That sounds…” He covered the extent to which he was moved with an awkward sort-of laugh and said. “...you good?”

_ I kinda can’t wait to do this again sometime. _

“I’m excellent.”

_ I mean, I shouldn’t get my hopes up...lots of folks say they’ll call again and never do... _

“...awesome,” Dean repeated. Grabbing his phone, he called up the app again, glad that he had a script for this last bit to cover his bumbling. “Thank you for calling Fetish-for-You, 1-900-F-E-T-4-Y-O-U. The total length of your call has been forty-six minutes and twenty five seconds. Factoring in your first time caller discount and ‘thirty minutes for thirty percent’ coupon, plus the applicable sales tax for your zip code, you should expect your card to be charged $30.45. If you agree to these terms and charges, you may now hang up. Otherwise, I can redirect you to a customer service representative.” 

_...but...well...maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hope, just a little. _

“You don’t need to redirect me anywhere,” said Cas. He sounded confident, and pleased, and in control, and unafraid.  _ I did that for him.  _ “I am  _ extremely  _ satisfied with the services I have received. Thank you. I’ll talk to you again soon, Dean.”

_...just a lot… _

The line went dead.

_ I wonder what my next call will be? _

* * *

~a year and a half later~

If someone had told Dean, when he first picked up his phone for a certain ‘dude,’ that he was talking to the queer platonic love of his life, he’d have laughed his goddamn ass off.

Okay, scratch that...he still laughed his goddamn ass off when he thought about it.

He’d dated men. He’d dated women. He’d dated nonbinary people. He’d dated agender people. He’d dated straight people and gay people and bi people and pan people and “don’t define my sexuality, Karen” people and queer people and, once, even another asexual person. And he’d learned things from all of those relationships, and he regretted very few of them, and they’d made him the person he was, but he’d not been sorry when any of them ended.

Cas was, they joked, bibliosexual. And he expected nothing more from Dean than that Dean sit in the next room over and describe any of their growing collection of rare and unusual and decorative tomes while he jerked off.

Afterwards he was always  _ incredibly  _ cuddly.

And he  _ loved _ to be the big spoon.

_ And  _ he loved to be the little spoon.

_ And either way...I love him. _

Seriously, it was fucking  _ hilarious _ , and Dean wouldn’t change a fucking thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Social Media!  
> Tumblr: [unforth](https://unforth.tumblr.com/)  
> Twitter: [unforth](https://twitter.com/unforth) (yes I use twitter now, but mostly for MDZS/Untamed, there's still some Destiel though)  
> Discord: unforth#6748


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